Censored

Already, William understands the implications of a mom who blogs. "Don't put that on your blog," he warns, somehow knowing that the photo I want to show you is the one he doesn't want you to see. "Put this one (see above) on the blog. I like that one."

He didn't say I couldn't write about the photo though and the face a young boy makes when he is being dragged in the heat to see monuments and historical sites that he couldn't care a rat's patootie about. Suddenly, all his bones disappeared and he began sinking to the ground, unable to go another step.

We had fully intended to take a tour, ride the hop-on-hop-off bus, but each day, it seemed there were things we had to do first, places to be, and we never quite managed to get on that bus. So we walked. And William did not want to walk. I remember stories of another little boy (who grew up to be my husband) who also felt this way about sight-seeing. And Washington is a lot to see, not enough time to see it all, just time to get a glimpse.

My Town Monday - Paradigm Shift

Everyday, as I water chickens and lead horses to pasture, feed my family and clean my house, people are descending down long tunnels to the underground Metro. There, they sit or stand quietly while on the way to a job or home. So many ways to go through life, so many unique paths.

I enjoyed a view into a different lifestyle from my own. At lunch, I sat with my family on Independence Avenue and watched young business people stroll by, talking or glancing at iPhones. Later, I walked and walked. So very different from home, such a different heartbeat, but pleasant in it's own way. I wondered would I adjust to the crazy driving, the sounds of sirens, the deference paid to people in power. Perhaps I would, but I've chosen differently.

Staying with my brother-, sister-in-law, and nephew in nearby Maryland, I was impressed with a botanical garden a block from their house. Beautiful walks lined with trees and gardens, and the trees were so tall! I hadn't noticed that our trees were short until now. I suppose our trees in forests are tall, but these trees in the park were towering! We asked questions of them as if we were in a different country: "How do you....?" or "Where do you...?" In a way, perhaps we were in a different country of sorts.

Now, back in my town, I think of the quiet people on the train as I go about my chores. I think of the crowds trying to squeeze in the door of the Metro to not wait another 10 minutes before going home. I think of the mom who drove the train that crashed, and died doing so. She worked to send her son to college. So many everyday lives out there, heros in their own right, but unknown to me as I pet Aloha and kiss Roxie good morning. Going away is good. It makes us remember our way isn't the only way, yet appreciate where we are. It makes us see our towns through another set of eyes.

Go to Travis' blog to see other MTM blogs.

Notes:
I finished New Moon, the second book in the (what do you call four books in a series? quatrology?) I still maintain that much as you love him, NO MAN is worth losing your soul. There.

The chickies grew tremendously while I was away!

I saw Michelle's victory garden. There was a man in a white coat (and cell phone, was he really working) in the garden. That's cheating! If she is going to set an example, I want to see her out in the heat sweating like the rest of us!

Junosmom goes to Washington

It was hard to not take it as an omen, but the Metro red line crash in Washington DC the day before we were to leave and ultimately, use public transportation in Washington DC made us country folk wonder what were were getting ourselves into. I wondered how this would impact our ability to get around, given that our generous hosts, my brother-in-law and family, lived along the red line. Thankfully, he was not on the train that day nor would he have been southbound. And, we have found that with a bit of patience, the city still moves, still gets you where you need to go.

After a few days in the city, I am amazed at the writing material. You need only sit in a spot for a few minutes before you have something or someone which catches your eye an makes you think. I must admit people watching is one of my favorite sports, one that I don't indulge in much in my small, rural town. Everything was so very different, even the atmosphere. I wonder what I'll ever find to write about after I fully explore this trip. My country life seems so - quiet - so uneventful after this trip.

Anna with Congressman Geoff Davis at the Capitol

We ventured out of our rural comfort zone for a ceremony - Anna won the Congressional Art Competition for our district. We saw her painting displayed in the corridor between the Congressional building and the Capitol. If you find yourself there some day, look for it in the Kentucky section. It will hang there for one year. I will miss it, for it normally hangs in my house!

I have photos, but still need to sort both them and my thoughts about this week. My family, (sans Lauren who is off on her own adventure), finally, by the last day, refused to walk any farther. I still had more museums to see but they staged a mutiny. More later....

A Homeschooling Moment

Donuts in our house are a luxury - I rarely if ever buy them. My nutritional lapse occurred because an expected early morning rise, and I didn't want to do dishes (and I wanted one!). Bringing them home the night before, William asked how many we each could have, given that there were four of us at home. I explained that a dozen meant there were twelve donuts.

He thought a moment, "Well, six plus six is twelve......"

I knew immediately this was one of those homeschool moments. He was figuring out math intuitively, the best way. I waited for his brain to make the next leap.

"Three!" he shouted. Yes! I had just witnessed how the human brain begins to figure out math without being taught. Curious as to his thought pattern, I asked how he figured it out.

"Well, mostly, I guessed."

(Sound of deflating balloon.)

Notes:

I felt a little guilty sending Diva (white hen) off to a new home, as she was "pregnant" and due any minute. I am relieved to hear she was delivered of two fuzzy chicks! Thanks again, PITA!

Twilight (Spoiler Alert)

All you need is love, all you need is love,
All you need is love, love, love is all you need.

- Lennon/McCartney

No Facebook update of mine stimulated more response than the one that stated I was reading Twilight by Stephanie Meyer to "see what all the fuss was about". Evidently, there is a fuss. If you don't know about Twilight, it is a book which spawned a movie about a teen that finds herself in lust love with a vampire. One such Facebook comment was "don't go all Edward on me". Well, not this chickie.

I won't deny I enjoyed the book, or that I was compelled to finish it, though it is is written on a much lower literary scale than I usually read. Even the Harry Potter books were much better literature. Yet, something was nagging at me as I read and tried to assess this tale that millions of teen girls are reading or watching at the movies.

In the end, I decided that the author must have put her finger on the same teen feeling that the Beatles' sang about decades before: all you need is love. In the book, our protagonist, Bella, loves Edward and Edward loves her. There are scenes of suspense, he saves her life several times, and there is conflict. Typical fantasy love story plot. So what bothers me?

Her reasons for "loving" Edward, besides the fact that he several times saves her life, center around his beauty, that she is the only human who has ever touched him emotionally, and that he has amazing powers. I suppose she also loves that his family has chosen to not eat humans, rather dine on wildlife. (This makes them more moral than the average vampire.) She loves him because he is forbidden, off-limits, dangerous.

Throughout the book, the theme is that they are not of the same world, the relationship is an unhealthy, if not fatal, choice, yet the sexual tension makes it all worth it to them both. Bella is willing to lie to her parents, leave friends behind, give up being who she is, and indeed die to satisfy her love for Edward. Somehow, this message left me empty when I finished the book. Perhaps it is also the lack of mention of the meaning of (human) life and our immortal soul. (Vampires nearly always live forever.)

I guess I've lived long enough to know the Beatles' were wrong. Love isn't all you need. I suppose I should keep my crotchety old pie hole shut and leave the teens to their fantasies, but I will first leave a message to them: don't try change your essential self to fit someone else because you think you love them. You can and will find someone who will love you for who and where you are.

My Town Monday - Storms

Weather is giving us an opportunity to study science frequently. For some reason, we have had a lot of storms, from ice to wind to floods and rain. Meteorologists have had a stellar year in Kentucky.

I will say, however, that our area, our town is blessed. For some reason, the storms seem to congregate to our northwest, and on radar, appear to be heading straight for us. Through the miracle (curse?) of modern technology, we can watch online for circular patterns and heavy downpours. Yet, many times, it turns as it crosses the Ohio River and goes south of us. One county in particular about an hour away seems always to be hit hard. I tell my daughters, "Never live in that county!"

There is something about the topography or the river that seems to protect us. Even the county to the east of us, which is flatter and more open, seems to get a lot more damage. Of course, we still have had our share of wind and ice, even the topography could not save us from that.

The frequent rains this year have resulted in a bumper crop of interesting, and sometimes large mushrooms. But, I'm not that adventurous to try them.

For more MTM, go to see Travis. Better yet, write your own and tell Travis and he'll link to you, too!

Photos above were taken on a stud farm (for horses, thought I should clarify that) up the road. They raise Thoroughbreds.

Bosch as in Posh

Happy Father's Day to my dear husband who allows me to include him in my blogs, exaggerate a great deal, and doesn't bat an eye when I buy a cool dishwasher. I love you!

I told Dh he should accompany me to buy a dishwasher, but he played golf.

"It will cost you," I warned. To be fair, he did offer to cancel his tee time, but I declined. I had been good to the dishwasher, used three times a day, it was now fourteen years old and showing it. Only the bottom rack got clean and this is how it looks (to the left). Above you see the utensil basket. Yes, it has two jars in it upside down. These are to prevent anyone from using those spots because the forks and knives fall through. It is truly time. But I wanted to pick the new appliance out myself and stay true to my word.

I first wrote about my appliances back in 2004. This dishwasher was still a young'un. But tomorrow, it is GONE. Having for a month done dishes by hand, my daughter asks if I am replacing her. My reply? It doesn't load itself.

First published: Friday, December 10, 2004 and aired on public radio.

Tools of the Trade

"Harry* thinks we need to buy a backhoe now," commented my husband's cousin at the wedding reception table. We were catching up with family news, having not seen each other since August. Harry and Shawna* had moved into their own "money pit" this past year, escaping suburbia for rural New Jersey. As is often the case, there were a few little surprises in store for them in their new residence, including the state of the septic system, hence, the backhoe. Having enjoyed his experience with the borrowed machinery, Harry felt they should own their very own backhoe, in the event of another ditch-digging emergency.

We laughed at the preposterous idea, while at the same time commiserating that there were costly machines and tools in our very houses that our men had purchased so that they could be prepared for just about anything. "Yet," Shawna said, "if I pull out both racks of my dishwasher at the same time, the whole kitchen tilts." Appliances used daily, more than the saw and special drill bits that gather dust in my garage, limp along in my life. My mother-in-law fares no better. While visiting recently, I could not get her dishwasher to start. "Oh, you have to lean against the door with your hip and jab the start button hard with the handle of a knife, " she instructed.

We have a special implement that attaches to our tractor (yes, tractor, not lawn mower) that is called a hay fork. This little item is used three times a year to move a roll of hay from our hay trailer, also used but three times a year, to the ground. In contrast, our fifteen year old refrigerator, opened about a zillion times a day, is held together with packing tape. The interior is a cave without illumination, since the lights long stopped working. I hate to even think what lurks in the dark corners. And while I'm on the refrigerator, why is it that the little plastic shelves, which break off like saltine crackers, aren't better made but cost almost as much as the refrigerator costs to replace?

My washing machine, which runs continuously, lasted fifteen years with several replacements of the agitator spline. It was a good machine, if you did not mind the sound of a jet engine just off your kitchen. It finally died from an overload of sheets and towels, and I stood agonizing over the models in the showroom. After much soul searching, I thought of Harry's backhoe, and bought the most expensive one I could afford.

*names changed to protect the guilty

Relativity

My son takes such flattering photos of me. Some, while I wipe messes off the floor with my rear in the air, some with my mouth full of peanut butter and jelly sandwich. These are the only photos that will remain of me, for I am always the one taking the family photos.

Someday, they'll look for a good photo for my obituary, and they'll have to choose between the PB&J face and my baby pictures. People will say, "Gee, she lived to be 109 and all they could find was her baby photo?"

Still, the candid shots are very revealing. But I found a friend: Picasa 3! I found I could airbrush out lines under my eyes, but apparently not the lemon sourpuss mouth. I look at these photos and it is natural what comes to mind: "How did I get OLD?"

I still feel like me inside, yet, my skin is softer on my bones, my curves a little broader, my endurance not as long. I'm strong for my size, but a fifty pound water bucket now shoots pains in my hips where babies once rode. I look down at my arms and wonder where I got them, for my arms have smooth skin, strong muscles (at least the ones I remember). Somehow, I'm not quite ready to be old, but it is happening without my compliance.

Evidently, someone got the word got out to some dufus at a retirement home who sent me a mailer. Yes, retirement home. I'll be eligible in less than a decade. I wonder if they'll mind William being there. He'll still be in high school. No, I think not. Besides, there is so much left to do, so many things I thought I would do. What happened to all the time?

Notes:
The barn was quiet last night. I am used to the sound of Travis chuckling to Diva, fussing around while I do evening chores. He, Diva, their two eggs and two black chicks went home to a therapy farm yesterday thanks to PITA's help (love ya, PITA! She's such an animal lover like me!) I know that I did the right thing, and they went to a great home, but I can't help miss them a little and hope they understand. What am I thinking? They're chickens, for goodness sake! At any rate, my husband will be happy that I've kept my word and kept chickens out of his mulch, as I should.

Science Friday: The Science Behind It

Today's science lesson is about something I learned long ago, not this week, so I hope that you'll pardon my stretching of my own guidelines for Science Friday. But, has come to my attention that members of the public, friends of mine even!, don't know about product testing of everyday items. I consider it my civic duty to share this information.

Have you ever considered how a company can make claims on certain products, such as, oh, say antiperspirant? How do they know that you will smell less if you use Brand A versus Brand B? Well, I had the opportunity to work for a certain company, Take-a-Gamble, many years ago in research. I'm sure everything is done differently now. Still, I'll not forget seeing a short woman on a ladder sniffing at the armpit of a tall man in a blinding white dress shirt. Yes, someone's job was sniffing armpits. Each day, each man was given a clean white shirt and was instructed to use the products given. She determined if the product was effective. The control group could use only soap, no deodorant.

Of course, her job could be worse. How do you think they test diapers? Well, yes, panelists needs to use them, stick them in the freezer and then at some point, the diapers are returned, weighed and well, inspected to make sure they work. Panelist get free diapers although I wonder how they explain the soiled diapers in their freezer to their friends (if they have any left, that is. I'm sure they don't stay for dinner).

From there, you can imagine other bathroom products that might be frozen and returned, but I'll leave you to your imagination. So, the next time you use a product, you might consider the science behind it, and the poor souls whose job it is to make sure you don't smell.

Please?

Yesterday was a full day: morning chores, pet sitting, an art workshop Anna is helping to teach, swimming lesson, piano lesson, meet with homeschool group for a movie, the girls went to the grocery for me. By the end of the day, we were happy to sit on the back porch and enjoy a little of the summer evening. We treated ourselves to grilled steak, baked potato and a salad.

Now, most people have difficulty with dogs begging at the table, and I want to reassure you that they were there, under the table. But our dogs know not to jump up or bark. I guess I'll have to train our miniature horses in table manners next. Evidently, they thought we were having carrots.

At first, it was cute. It quickly became annoying. No one wants a horse eating from their dinner plate.










So, we kicked them off the deck and barricaded them with chairs. And they gave us these looks. Roxie tried her cute "please?" look while Chiron just looked hurt.












Roxie, not to be thwarted, went around to the other side and tried to find a way to slip through the bench rail and the deck. Since that obviously didn't work, they set about trampling my hostas and eating my butterfly bush. For some reason, our intended relaxation did not happen.











Notes:
I picked some rhubarb and put it in the 'fridge. Lauren almost used it in her tuna salad, as it greatly resembles celery (but doesn't taste the same!).

Why Did the Chicken Cross the Road?

"Mom, chicken!" Anna warned. I automatically braked the car and then looked. Sure enough, a large black chicken was crossing the road to get to the other side. I suppose had you told me when I was younger that I'd live in a neighborhood where I might have a bumper sticker "I BRAKE FOR CHICKENS" and mean it, I would have laughed.

The chicken had run from a farm house to a very nice brick home on the opposite side. Why? Well a mate had already preceded this chicken, but likely, they were planning to dig up the nicely mulched flower beds. I imagie the owners of the house will not be pleased. That (rightly so) gets under dh's skin when I free range chickens and he comes home to see the mulch spread out all over the yard.

So, I've been trying to get rid of some of the chickens but I hear a common refrain: "I'd love to have your hens but my neighbors would be unhappy if I have a rooster." What has this world come to that people don't like the cheery morning sound of a rooster? As for us, our neighbors, who have ducks but do not want chickens, like the distant sound of Aloha and Travis calling to the sun each morning. But then, they are not right next door. The neighbors who are never do complain, but then I've not asked their opinion. Likewise, I find it amusing to hear the peacocks and turkeys a neighbor has on the other side of me.

My favorite sound, however, happens when sleeping a bit late on a cool, rainy summer morning. A mockingbird used to sit in the holly tree outside our bedroom window and go through all the songs she had learned, each one distinctly different, probably twenty in all. She didn't return this year, and I miss her songs. I hope one of her relatives moves into her former territory.

Notes:
We had rain again today, and everything is very green.

Someone is interested in buying Phantom - but they are from Maryland! I think that is quite a long drive!

Happy Birthday to my sister, Teresa!

Powerless

Do they not know I have a blog to manage? "They" being my provider of Internet service. On top of that, I am desperately trying to give away chickens and sell my pony, important stuff you know. Yet, once again, I have no phone or Internet at my house. You may wonder by what nefarious means I am blogging. (Can you tell we are studying SAT words at our house? Did I get nefarious right?)

I sit in the parking lot of Anna's art studio, stealing their wireless service like a junkie. She's assisting in teaching an art workshop this week, and today, I'll be in this same parking lot four times, dropping off and picking up as she also has art class tonight. It is only fair that I get to catch a signal in the air to write to you, isn't it?

As for this workshop, they are making musical instruments out of gourds. Interesting.

Notes:
Diva (aka "Scary Chicken") sits still on her eggs. I wonder if she'll be disappointed or if there are chicks in there?

Little boys don't mind getting rained on at a minor league baseball game as long as he can have pizza, peanuts, cotton candy, hot dogs, Coke, and can play on the playground conveniently located inside the stadium.

My Town Monday - Most Improved

At the beginning of the season, William's hitting was sporadic and he couldn't throw at all. By the end of the season yesterday, he was one of the Giants most reliable batter and made the first play the team ever made from the outfield, throwing a ball from right center to second base for the out.

Our small town boasts a Little League that rivals most small towns. It has dedicated fields, pitching machines, lights for the night. We try to overlook that the scoreboards don't work sometimes. But I can't say enough about the real treasure - the coaches.

By the end of the season, the coaches had taken these boys, some of whom had never even thrown a ball and some who were quite good, and made a team of them. It was too bad that the season was over, as they had just finally coalesced into a team.

We walked from that field over to our Church next door and watched the Knights of Columbus in a baseball game against the youth group. The clouds were threatening, but we enjoyed sitting and watching the little kids on the playground while cheering for the bigger kids, dads grilling hot dogs. Such Americana it was.

I was musing on how chance or perhaps God placed me here. In a town where Lauren found one of the best piano teachers in the nation, where Anna found an art teacher and mentor, and a town that is so artsy, where young boys are nurtured yet challenged, where there is a town center and you nearly always see someone you know when you are out and about. I know that is becoming a rare thing in our society, and it is too bad.

Driving along the rural highway this morning, taking Anna to teach an art workshop, I watched the fields go by my window. Sheep, cows, horses. Yet, I am nearby to shopping, entertainment, and "big" cities. I meet many people that move here for the culture. You'd never think that, would you? Of all the places in the world they could choose, they picked my small town.

Yet, there are challenges - a different attitude towards education. But more on that another day.
Go visit some other towns that are listed over on Travis' blog roll of My Town Monday.

Notes:
The horses have had too much clover. They open their mouths and it seems gallons of saliva drips out. Too gross.

The minis are finally starting to shed their winter hair.

Defect Levels

I love reading other blogs as it catapults me into ideas for writing. PITA recently wrote about arm hair in gourmet pizzas. See? It may never have occurred to me without her timely post that hairy armed men were contaminating my pizza. (It is a little gross to think about.) I advised her not to think about it, given that contaminants are in all of our food. Think not? Take a look at the FDA's Defect Level Handbook.

What? You do not know about this? Yes, our government has put time and money into determining how much crap (literally) and bugs and dirt is acceptable in our food. For example, condimental seeds other than fennel seeds and sesame seeds can can have an average of 3 mg or more of mammalian excreta per pound. Significance? Aesthetic You think? (Of course, are you going to notice that that's not a poppy seed? If I catch y'all inspecting your hard rolls at the next buffet, I'll know why now.) But aesthetically unpleasing? Only because I can see it? Not because it is MOUSE POOP in my food?

And, I want to know whose job it was to determine how much mammalian poop can be in my condimental seeds before a consumer (me) notices. I can picture the million dollar study: A man sits in a lonely lab with a jar of corriander and tweezers, adding one mouse turd at a time, shaking the jar. "Crap," he says, "that was one too many!" And later, a panel test: "Do you notice anything about these peppercorns?"

I could go on, but frankly, if you want to avoid bugs, excrement, dirt, mold, parasites and bacteria, you'd best not eat or don't follow the above link. For me, I think "not visible" and "not thinking about it" is my creed, given my past experience with larvae on broccoli. But thanks to PITA (love ya, PITA), I think I'll stick to box pizza.

Goldilocks Goes to College

Little League baseball games would be much more enjoyable if they sold beer at the concession stand. Corona. With Lime. On second thought, maybe a bad idea. Some parents already seem to have a little control issue, and while beer calms some, it loosens other. All the bad calls last night were to our favor, yet we still lost. William got some good hits, and selfishly, that's all I care about - he's improved this season tremendously. They won't be in the championship and I am secretly a little relieved.

Most of my time is now spent in giving away my elder daughter. That's how it feels anyway, like I'm trying to find a husband for her or a new family. Like giving her away, planning for her to leave. She is like Goldilocks: this college is TOO big, and this college is TOO small. Their pianos are TOO awful, and I'd continue but so far, there is no college or university where the pianos are just right. The Suzuki ideal of providing the best instrument affordable has not trickled down to the American post-secondary education system.

So, we give up the piano ideal and search for a college professor that Lauren likes and with whom she wants to study for four years. Of course, this is all pie-in-the-sky because we can't afford any of them. That segues into my second occupation of becoming a scholarship guru. It is a minefield.

I leave you with a photo taken of William at his last piano recital. Why do I watermark it? So he doesn't end up in Czechlosavakia.

Scary Chicken

I feel like this some days when I've not yet had my coffee and William wakes up talking.

This chicken has gone broody and is sitting on two eggs on a shelf above the window in a horse stall. I have had a heart to heart with her and explained that I DO NOT need more chickens. Evidently, her biological clock is more important than my opinion. This is "Diva" (named for Kristen Painter), married to Rooster "Travis".

Note: no chickens were harmed in producing this video, we only looked at her. We did eat some (nameless) chickens for dinner, however. Also, I was accused of sounding like a chicken when I yelled "get back, get back!!" at William's baseball game last night.

We also have two chickies that were hatched from Diva/Travis eggs and put under a black bantam hen.

Anna just went by. "You're posting a blog???"

In a Jam

My sister thinks I might be dead due to my lack of blogging. She doesn't understand. The strawberries were ripe. Strawberries are heartless: they don't care what you have going on. Ripe is ripe and jam must be made, blog or no. You think this a minor point? Well, strawberry freezer jam can only be made one time a year when local berries are ripe. Those apple-sized berries from California? No taste. Only small local berries will do and the jam must last us the whole year.

So, the jam is now made. Blogging can resume. Okay, I exaggerate (which I never do) and the jam was not the only impediment. It might be that my daughter was preparing for some major recitals, playing four hours a day, and besides not being able to think straight due to piano music constantly in my ears, I was doing most of the barn chores alone to relieve her. Yet, it paid off.

It might be that we were at Suzuki Piano Camp for a week, hosting my other sister and nieces while we homeschoolers experienced what it was like to actually get up in the morning and haul our rears to a school and schedule. Boy, it was rough having to behave like the "real" world. I almost didn't make it. But again, it was worth it.

It might be the college visits. Hey, I hear all of us old people saying the same thing - we didn't go touring around visiting 95 colleges, interviewing professors, eating at the student center and being fêted by the admissions department. You went to your local university, on campus the first day of classes in the major selected by your high school counselor for you, AND YOU LIKED IT! (Or not, but you weren't about to complain.) You didn't study for the ACT and SAT and take them a bazillion times for a great score. You took it one time and resolved yourself to the fact you weren't as smart as you thought. Yes, times have changed.

Now, what else? Well, Lauren was admitted to a highly selective Governor's School for the Arts this summer and invited to play in a 10 Piano Concert in California. Anna won not only best of show in her last art contest (local) but also won the Congressional Art Competition for our district, which means her painting will hang in the Congressional tunnel at the Capitol Building for the next year. Exciting news!

Ah, and baseball season. What can I say? None of you warned me, and one sister KNEW, that it takes over your entire schedule. William, however, was pleased to see his name in the paper for the triple he hit.

Are we caught up yet?
Not really, so here are some notes:
Buffy, our oldest hen, died of old age. She just laid down one night on the hay and never got back up.

William is hatching many chickens. Who wants a rooster? Who knows someone that we can gift in the dark of night?

My dishwasher is broken. Has been for some time. This is also a cause for less blogging. I wash dishes by hand and use the racks for drying. Like the Beverly Hillbillies or something. I mean to get to the store to buy one, but no time.

My daughter's computer is broken. She uses mine. I will have to get up earlier.

My Internet connection has been constipated. I finally called the provider and they say that I had problems both inside and outside but the inside problems are now fixed. My problems are a low external signal. Funny how my Internet connection parallels my own energy levels. They want to know if I want to pay more for a higher speed connection. No, I just want the connection I am paying for now!

I apologize to several of you that have mentioned that I've left you with no lunch time reading material or that missed me. The longer I was away from blogging, the harder it became to jump back in. But enough people left kind comments, I knew I must find my way back out of the darkness. So here I am.